Page 56 of Tempting the Scoundrel
She nuzzled his cheek, then turned in his arms. “Undress me.”
In the morning, he’d regret not telling her. He’d regret that she didn’t have a choice—not really. That when he put his hands on her and began to unbutton her clothes, he did it with guilt and something far, far worse: love.
Thorne loved Alex.
And he hated himself for what he was about to do.
* * *
With a whisper of material,Alexandra’s dress fell to the floor. Nick had nimble hands. His movements were deft and practiced as he unlaced her corset and pushed her petticoats to the floor.
A hitch of his breath. Alexandra knew what he saw: her combination was as gossamer thin as cobwebs, her skin visible through the material. She lifted her hands, a silent plea to remove it. Nick complied—but when she thought he might touch her, press his hands to her back, her shoulders, kiss her skin—he only stepped back. Why was he so hesitant now? If she turned to face him, would she find Nick in that same distant reverie that seemed beyond her? Some place in his mind she couldn’t reach?
No, she could reach it. She did not want a distant husband. She wanted her lake kiss—like he couldn’t get enough of her. She wanted him naked and inside her.
Alexandra shoved down her drawers and heard his soft hiss.There. He could still be reached.
She turned and almost faltered at the hunger in his gaze. His eyes touched her all over—legs, hips, breasts, up, up. They were fevered when they met hers.
“You will stay here with me,” Alexandra told him as she reached for his coat and shoved it off. Her hands were on his waistcoat now, undoing buttons. “Not that place in your mind, Nick. Here. With me.”
Braces off his shoulders. His shirt was in the way; it had to come off. Alex lifted the material over his head so roughly that she heard the fabric tear. God, he was beautiful. His muscles were like carved marble, the lines of his body a work of art, lovingly crafted. It seemed a shame to cover them up, to hide him behind the bulk of clothes. She focused on the scars that lined his torso—long gashes, some of them. A star shaped mark over his pectoral. Long, thin lines along his ribcage that seemed deliberately cut there.
No, he did not have the form of a mere schoolmaster. These scars were not obtained in a classroom. Where, then, had Lord Locke seen such brutality?
His expression was so grave. So grim. The candlelight highlighted the harsh line of his mouth, the intensity of his dark stare as he regarded her. As if he challenged her to ask.
She felt as if she were on the ledge of some great precipice, about to be thrown off. It did not suit her mood. She did not wish it.
“With me,” she snapped, her hands going to his trousers. These buttons were easy; his small clothes were easier. When she had him naked, she reached up and touched his cheek. “In this room.”
His hand pressed to hers. “Alex.”
No. Why did her name sound like a confession? Why did it sound like guilt?
She would not hear it, whatever it was. Not now. Not tonight. She did not wish to know what was down at the bottom of the precipice—what came after the fall.
Alexandra slid her hands into the softness of his hair, grasped him roughly. “You and me, Nick. Nothing else. Nothing between us.”
Nick seemed to come to a decision, some stark and somber choice. Because the next thing she knew, he was kissing her.Yes, this was what she wanted. Lips hard against hers, hands trailing down her ribcage, frankly addressing her topography.
He walked her back until she fell against the mattress. Then his hot, hard body covered hers. His lips pressed soft kisses down the line of her throat. The muscles of his back moved beneath her palms as he arched into her touch.
But this was not enough, Alexandra wanted more. She impatiently scrabbled her fingernails across his skin, opened her thighs wide until she felt his cock hard and ready against her.
“Patience,” he said, nipping her in admonishment.
“No,” she told him, arching her hips up until she was against his cock.
Nick groaned and pressed her wrists into the mattress. Then he dipped his head to whisper in her ear, “If you’re patient, I’ll slide my tongue inside your pussy and make you come so hard, you’ll see stars.”
Alexandra let out a soft breath. “I’m . . . I’m open to being convinced.” With a wicked smile, he released her wrists and trailed light kisses down the concave of her stomach, down and down.
When he paused, it was with his mouth only a breath away from her quim. “Still need convincing?”
“Nick.” She didn’t care anymore. She wanted his mouth on her, his hands on her skin, touching her, touching her, touching—
He set his lips to her. Alexandra arched up, gasping as he licked and sucked the sensitive skin between her legs. He knew just how much pressure, just where to press his tongue and use his fingers.
